Doctors, Sociopaths, and Baseball Caps
by WhomeverIAm
Summary: Sherlock and John just met a strange girl with a stranger past. What will happen to them when Jim turns out to be the root of all their problems? Mentions Mystrade and Johnlock. Nothing graphic. First Multichapter fic!
1. Shock

A.C.B.

Greg had tried everything. Absolutely everything, even threatening Mycroft. Nothing worked. Alexandra was in shock and it killed him that his charge wouldn't let him help her. The teen wearing her favourite baseball cap had shut the world out and was not going to open up anytime soon.

"C'mon Sweetie. Can't you tell me what happened so I can help?" Nothing. No reaction whatsoever. Greg sent another angry text to Sherlock to _get his ass to Bart's morgue now. _Alexandra's only action was to curl in tighter on her chair.

Greg sighed. _Poor Al. Her parent's died not a month ago, she's been relocated to a different country, and now, on the verge of recovery, this happens._ Al's best (and only) friend is dead. Thanks to a certain psychopath.

Mycroft strode into the room suddenly, making Al whimper and clutch her legs tighter.

Greg watched as Mycroft glanced over her. His eyes widened and he practically tiptoed over to the chair. "Hey, Al." Mycroft crouched next to her and tried to put his hand on her shoulder like any proper guardian would do, but she flinched away so violently that he did not attempt to do so again. "What can I do to help?"

She ignored him.

Mycroft sighed and got up. Greg motioned for Mycroft to follow him out of the room.

"What happened to her?" Mycroft demanded.

"Lila's dead."

Mycroft paled. "That explains it. Is Sherlock on his way?"

"Yes. What should we do about Al?" Greg was worried; Mycroft could read it all over his face. Together, as Al's somewhat official guardians, they had no idea. She had only been in the boyfriends' custody for two and half weeks.

"Maybe Molly could help?"

"Yes. I'll go get her."

Greg walked away from his boyfriend to fetch Molly. She came immediately, and made a beeline for the girl.

"Hi, Al. My name's Molly." Molly continued to try to coax Al into accepting a blanket. Al refused every time, nonverbally. She defiantly wasn't going to talk. Not when Mycroft had _promised_ it wouldn't happen again.

Greg couldn't watch anymore and left the room to wait for Sherlock. As it happened, he and his sidekick were walking into the lobby when Greg got there.

"Lestrade, what could possibly be so important that it required 43 texts?"

Greg rubbed the back of his head and looked to the ground sheepishly. "Y'know that orphan that Mycroft and I took custody of two weeks ago? Well, her best friend was murdered in an alley with no CCTV footage. Al's in shock now and is not responding to anything."

John's doctor mode snapped into place. "Can I see her?"

"Sure. This way. Don't be alarmed if Al doesn't do anything but flinch away."

Sherlock and John followed Greg down to the family room in the morgue. Molly had left when she realized that she couldn't do anything to help Al. John walked over to Al and sat down in front of her.

Al looked down at this strange man who hadn't said anything. He smiled back at her. She looked at him. _Reading him._ John noticed. _Gunna have to tell Sherlock that._

"John, come over here." Sherlock called, not looking away from the file he was currently flipping through. John smiled again at Al and got off the floor. Al watched his progress back to the group of adults.

Her eyes widened when she saw Sherlock. Reading him, she saw a person that would actually _help._ Not Greg, who really tried. Alternatively, Mycroft, who was aloof and had other people do his legwork. However, _Sherlock_, Sherlock would do anything to help a friend. (Not that he had many. _That _was plain about the man.) He could help her in a way that the others couldn't.

Wrapped up in their conversation, none of the adults noticed her get off her chair and walk over to stand behind Sherlock.

Sensing warmth behind him, Sherlock spun around. His eyes widened when he saw Al standing there, watching him with big, wet eyes. Sherlock stared at her, deducting her. Then she did what no one expected.

She _hugged him._


	2. Sleep

**A/N: Hi! Thought I should put in a disclaimer in here somewhere. I do not own BBC **_**Sherlock**_**, or the rights to the books. If I did third season would be out already.**

**Thanks to my wonderful Idea-Beta, 'cause she's just that awesome!**

**Al: Hey, you own me right?**

**Me: 'Coarse! I didn't think I'd need to say it. On with the show!**

A.C.B.

Sherlock glanced over from his place on the couch to the smallish human currently curled up in his chair. Sleeping.

Three hours previous:

_Everyone in the room was staring at Sherlock (who was frozen btw) and the teenage baseball cap wearing female that was currently hugging him. Now, Greg and Mycroft had shared many stories with Al about Sherlock and could not understand why she had chosen to hug a sociopath. Mycroft could see (as big brothers could) that Sherlock was slowly getting better control of his emotions courtesy of John H. Watson, but not enough to handle being hugged by a young female._

_John was silently laughing at the consulting detective's predicament. Not helpful whatsoever._

_Sherlock had awkwardly patted her back and gently guided her back to her chair. But before he could rejoin the adults, Al grabbed his hand and wouldn't let go. Eventually, exhausted by the day's events, she had fallen asleep._

_Greg walked over to the chair to pick Al up and carry her home but, she had just flinched from him again._

_Mycroft sighted, "I do believe that you will have to take Al home with you, Brother Dear."_

_John sat down next to Sherlock. "What now?"_

"_I believe that Alexandra will continue to sleep."_

_John sighed. "In the near future, Sherlock." He got up and put a blanket over Al._

"_I am going to solv-. Hello Brother." John spun around and glared at Mycroft, who was coming through to door._

"_We need to talk."_

"_You are here. I would assume that is why, Brother Mine."_

"_About Al," John cut in._

"_Yes. Would you be so kind as to put her in your bedroom Doctor Watson?" John gently lifted Al off of the chair and carried her to his room._

"_Anthea will be bringing her overnight bag here in an hour or so."_

_Sherlock waved the comment away and steepled his hands under his chin. "Al?"_

_John set a cup of tea in front of the politician._

_And he began to talk._


	3. Chai

"I should tell you now that I don't know the entire story."

Sherlock snorts. "All your men Mycroft and they couldn't tell you one little girl's past? Shows the competence of the government."

"Yes, well the Bowyers were always a secretive family." Sherlock's face flashed with recognition. "Remember the name Sherlock? They were our family's old friends. After some trouble they relocated to the United States to protect their only daughter."

John cut in, "How do you know this much if your agents couldn't find anything on Al?"

Mycroft shrugs, "She won't tell me anything that isn't in the official records. Al is as secretive as many agents in the line of fire. For a being aged fifteen years, Al is surprisingly mature and full of surprises. I don't even know what is on the necklace she wears."

"You are really getting soft, Brother, if a _teen_ can surprise you."

"Hmm. "

To prevent the destruction of the flat, John cuts in between the Holmes brothers. "How did you get Al if she was in the U.S.?

"I heard of her parents' death from an agent of Social Services in the U.S. as I am her legal guardian if the Bowyers were to die. I pulled in favors to grant Al dual citizenship quickly and bring her over."

Sherlock has that look on his face. John notices he's going into his mind palace. Mycroft sees it to.

"How did her parents die?"

"One of the things she won't tell me."

"What does the record say?" John feels he is preventing a war.

"The official document states the Bowyers died in a car accident in front of their home."

"But?"

"There was a third person in the car with them."

"Who?"'

"We assume Al's best friend Tasha Harkings."

"Assume?"

"Yes, Tasha went missing around the time that the Bowyers were killed. The body was too charred for DNA samples."

"Wrong." Three heads whip around to face the doorway.

Al had come down the stairs with no one noticing.

"Hello -,"

"You know that only .5% of car crashes ignite, Mycroft. Use that head of yours. Even _you _should be able to figure out what happened.

"You won't tell anyo-."

Mycroft cut off when Al smacked the back of his head. _HARD._

Mycroft lurched foreward. Sherlock smirked. John tried valiantly to not laugh.

Al stood back from Mycroft and began making rude gestures at him in (what John presumes it is) sign language.

"Where is my kit, Mycroft Holmes?" John shivered. _Dang, her voice is cold, colder than the commanders in the army were._

Mycroft hands a military grade, navy blue, leg strap bag. She snatched it from him and swiftly put it on. "It's lighter. What did you do?"

"I upgraded a few things."

Al held out her hand and Mycroft handed her some everyday items: three plastic cases, a knife and an old mobile. She stalked back upstairs with a nod to the rest of the room.

John burst out laughing. "That was fun." He laughed harder when Mycroft's face turned a little pink. "What was that about Mycroft?"

"That kit is her life, Al loses it - she will tear up the entire city to look for it."

"Interesting."

"I thought so."

"When did you take it?"

"Before the police made it to the morgue with Lila. I didn't need Al killing someone."

"Would she do that?"

Mycroft nodded. "Yes, and I believe she has had to before. Al has not had an easy upbringing."

John stopped listening to the conversation. He worried about the deceptive girl upstairs _in his room _and wondered just what happened to Al to make her that cold.

John got up (not that the brothers noticed) and turned the kettle back on.

"Oh John," Mycroft stopped talking with Sherlock for a moment. "Catch." He threw a packet of powder to John. "Al prefers Chai to normal tea. Something she picked up in America."

"Thanks."

Mycroft nodded and turned back to his brother.

John efficiently made tea for the three males and chai latte for Al. He put the mugs in front of Mycroft and Sherlock and took the chai upstairs for Al.

He knocked quietly and opened the door to the darkened room.

Al spun around quickly with a knife in hand.

"What do you want?" She hissed.

"To give you a cuppa."

"I don't like tea." The knife went away.

"So Mycroft says. It's chai latte."

Al strode over and took the mug timidly from John. "Sorry I'm taking your room."

John flapped his hand. "It's perfectly alright." She sat on the edge of the bed and sipped at the chai.

"What are you curious about?"

John (still standing awkwardly in the doorway) chuckled. "How you can get the British Government to immediately follow your orders. Even Sherlock can't do that."

Al smiled a little, "I've been with him little over a month and I know his and Greg's every quirk."

John cautiously walked into the room. Al stayed seated and let him sit on the bed with her.

"You're the strange one."

"Strange one?"

"The one who didn't try to touch or talk to me in the morgue."

"Ah. Everyone else tried?"

Al nodded. "Mycroft, the nurses, the medic, Greg, Molly. Why didn't you?"

"Hard to say. I was a medic in the army. I served in Afghanistan."

"Knew you were military." She muttered and got off the bed and stretched. Al turned back at him and did a perfect salute. John hastily got up and saluted back. Al sat back down and grabbed her half-empty mug. "Medic then?"

"Yeah."

"Harsh job. Invalidated?"

"Shot in the shoulder."

"Ah." They sat in silence for a few minutes.

John looked over at Al. He started when he saw her crying.

Being the wonderfully cuddly man, John hugged Al. She melted into him and started crying harder.

Eventually, Al began breathing deeply, signaling that she fell asleep. John smiled at the soft expression on the normally hard face. He laid her down on the bed, picked up the mug from the bedside table, and tiptoed back downstairs.

**A/N: I feel kinda mean now. Thanks to all who have read this it makes my day seeing that counter go up! Live life and Have fun! AL **

**Still don't own Sherlock.**


	4. Poison

**Hello again! I burned my finger in art class today so forgive any mistakes you see. Hopefully I'll get this posted tonight, if I don't AL will be yelling at me all night and I won't get any sleep. I don't own Sherlock nor do I make any money for posting this.**

**On with the show!**

A.C.B.

Al slowly adjusted to the erratic life at 221B Baker Street. She nicknamed the skull Rodney and let Mrs. Hudson mother her. But Al did not let her emotions show and that scared pretty much everyone involved with her life.

It confused the Holmes' because _weren't teenage girls supposed to be extremely emotional?_ They didn't understand because, well, they were hopeless with most emotions anyway.

John worried that Al was hiding some sort of addiction, because that is what Harry had done to her family. Until Sherlock assuaged his doubts by showing John that Al rarely left the flat, even then an adult nearly always accompanied her.

Mrs. Hudson looked past the emotional drained façade and worried that Al would be hurt by Sherlock or John that would force her to regress further.

Mycroft and Greg tried to stay out of it. They knew that Al would get better. She had before and (they hoped) would again.

After a few days of Al sleeping in the living room with a non-sleeping Sherlock, John forced Al to move into his room while he took Sherlock's.

Sherlock didn't complain - he hardly slept anyway.

A.C.B.

Going unnoticed, Al was planning. She was being devious and trying to figure ways to get John and Sherlock together as thanks. Most of her plans were really stupid but it was fun to try anyway.

A.C.B.

"I've got it!"

Al and John's heads swiveled to face Sherlock. That was a perfectly nice silence he just ruined!

"Got to go! I will be home sometime soon." Sherlock ran out of the flat while gracefully wrapping his scarf around his neck.

The pair left in the flat stared at the door indecorously.

"Tea?"

Al shrugs. _Why not._

John gets up to make tea. He stops when Al grabs onto his sleeve.

"You are curious again, why?"

John was taken aback; this was the first time she had spoken to anyone really in about a week.

"Well, you hardly talk."

"That's hardly a reason to try and extract information."

John sighs, "Sherlock expressed concern when he couldn't deduce who you were back in the States."

Al barked out a dry laugh. "My files were drilled into my brain by the best. A _Consulting Detective,_ no matter how great he thinks he is, is not going to get information based on my appearance."

"Files? Never heard of 'em. Only ever heard of a mind palace and that was after I met Sherlock."

Al barked again, "Sit and I will explain a bit." John sat. "My files are liar's palaces. Heard of them?" John shook his head, listening to Al with curiosity plain on his face. "A liar's palace is basically a mind palace - a person sinks their subconscious into it and they become that palace's identity."

"So, you are constantly in a liar's palace because it prevents people from reading you so easily."

"Exactly. It was constantly necessary in the States, but now it's just a habit."

"Can you store information like Sherlock can?"

"Depends on the situation."

"Ah." John got up to make the tea. He hands Al her chai and begins to pepper her with questions again. "What's in your kit then?"

That earned a smirk. "Depends on what I allow you to see."

"And what does that entail?"

Al opened the pack on her leg, snatched something out of it, and promptly threw it at John. He caught it with a surprised look on his face. "A wrench? Really? Was throwing it at my head strictly necessary?"

"Yes. It means that you pass."

"Pass what?"

"My test." Al proceeded to show him the three plastic cases, blue, green, and red. "Blue, screwdrivers. Green, lock picks. And red, poison."

John winces. "Mycroft lets you carry around _poison?_"

"Yes. My martial arts style is unique and uses a variety of techniques. I could probably best most grown men. Not that I have tried to very often."

John's mouth silently falls open a little bit, as he processes this information. "Interesting."

Al laughs a bit and puts her kit back together.

John senses that the conversation is over and turns the TV to Doctor Who.

A.C.B.

When Sherlock ran back into the flat, Al had fallen asleep in Sherlock's chair (again) and John was dozing on the couch.

"That can't be good for her back."

John jerked to full awareness. "When'd you get back?"

"Just now, John. Do keep up."

"Sorry, sorry."

Sherlock walked over to couch and pulled John up. "Come on. I found a lead on Lila's murderer!"

John whipped out his phone and texted Mycroft: _We have to leave come over and watch Al._

_A.C.B._

_When Al woke up again, Mycroft was sitting on the couch texting quietly._

"'_Lo."_

"_Evening, Alexandra."_

"_Evenin'."_

"_Did you know that U.S. soldier in World War One were the first to eat M&M's?"_

_Mycroft chuckled, "Go back to sleep, Al."_

"_Fine, fine. Whatever."_

_A.C.B._

_Mycroft had gone by the time Al decided to get up and take a shower. After toweling her hair, she walked back into her room to check that John and Sherlock had come home yet._

_She heard someone move behind her. Al spun around to face this unknown person when she felt the jab of a needle in her arm._

_And the world went black for Alexandra C. Bowyer._

_A.C.B._


	5. Stairs

**Jello Again! (Yes, I ment to put 'jello'.) I will hopefully have this up by the end of the weekend, Dad has me moving insulation. Ugh. I really hope you like this chapter, I felt really mean about having to write it. Hopefully, Al's life will improve some soon, but this chapter is full of angst.**

**Sorry, if I haven't put enough person descriptions for Al in here, I'll change that soon.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock nor do I make any money by posting this.**

**P.S. If someone wants to draw Al w/o the rest of her apperance, that would be really cool. P.M. me a link. (I want to see how other people view her!)**

**On With the Show!**

A.C.B.

John and Sherlock came home after running around London for most of the night.

"Well, that was worthless."

Sherlock huffed. "Now we know that trail is dead and no longer of any use."

"Don't try to justify yourself Mister. Wonder where Al got off to."

Sherlock shrugged and sank onto the couch. John sighed and wandered upstairs to check on the teenager occupying his room.

She wasn't there. A quick check proved that she wasn't in bed or in the bathroom. John decended the stairs quickly.

"She isn't here."

"Mycroft must've taken her somewhere. Not my concern right now."

"Right. I'm off to bed."

A.C.B.

"Sherlock, I have to go to work." Sherlock didn't budge, John knew he wasn't going to move. He got on the couch yesterday and hadn't moved a muscle. "Right I'm off."

John left Sherlock to his own devices and left the eerily quiet flat.

Sherlock was so deep into his mind palace, didn't hear the front door quietly open and shut. Nor did he hear the soft padding of bare feet on the stairs up to the attic room. He also didn't hear the thump of someone collapsing on said stairs.

A.C.B.

When John came home from a stressful day of work, the first thing he noticed was the blood drops on the stairs to the flat.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock's head poked out of the kitchen. "Yes, John? I was in the niddle of an experiment!"

John huffed at his annoyed expression. "Where'd this blood come from Sherlock? One of your _experiments_ that you conviently forgot to clean up?"

"I don't do experiments on the stairs John."

"Not the point where did the blood come from?" John was becoming hysterical.

"Splatter and age of the blood suggest a short, wounded female walking up to the attic bedroom approximently two hours ago."

John paled and rushed up the rest of the stairs. He pushed past Sherlock and ran to the other landing. "Al!" Al was on the stairs, pyjama bottoms soaked in blood, gashes and bruises on her arms, and breathing harshly. Al seemed to be awake, but her eyes were closed.

"What? Why is she here?"

"Not the question right now! Help me get her to the living room!" John approached Al cautiously. "Al, sweetheart, can you wake up, please? Al, you're safe now." Al wimpered when John got too close. "You'll be alright, come on I just need you to come to the living roo-." She cried out when John lightly touched her arm. She smacked him when he tried to put his other hand underneth her to lift her off the stairs.

"Sherlock, I think you'll have to get her." John ran to the kitchen for medical supplies.

Sherlock stared awkwardly at Al. She wimpered again when he finally coaxed her into his arms without Al smacking him.

He set her down gently on the leather couch. Al cried out and tightly gripped Sherlock's hand, she still refused to open her eyes.

John quickly began washing out the visible wounds, wincing whenever Al flinched or wimpered when the disinfectant stung harshly.

Soon, Al was crying silently. That worried John - this 15 year old could bring down a grown man and she was crying. John finished with bandaging her arms and moved to the chest cavity. He sighed with relife when she didn't protest. No ribs broken but a few bruises.

Then he pulled down her pyjama bottoms carefully to be met with resistance. Al put her hand over his and opened her eyes.

"_Please._" Her hazel eyes were begging him not to look.

"Sorry, Sweetheart. I have too." Al began crying harder and squeezed Sherlock's hand with more force.

"_Don't." _Her's was the most broken voice he had heard since Afganistan. He shook his head and pulled the bottoms off. Both John and Sherlock gasped. Al's legs were covered with bruises and stab wounds. That wasn't what had their attention though.

Her pant were _soaked with blood._

Sherlock cursed. He wipped out his phone and sent a text to Mycroft.

_Al's been raped. 221B NOW. Bring an ambulance._

Within the span of 20 minutes, Mycroft and Greg were in the flat and holding hands. Al had fallen asleep on the couch. The four males looked at her sadly and knew that this incident would push Al away from any hope she had of a full recovery. Everyone of them jumped when the medics came in. (Sherlock and Mycroft not so much.) They quickly came in and strapped her to a stretcher. She had cried out every time one of them touched her.

"Jake! Help! He's hurting me."

A medic came in for a quick brefing."Sirs, will you meet us at the hospital?"

Mycroft answerd, "Shortly." The medic nodded and ran down the stairs.

"Who's Jake?"

"Don't know."

"You sure are helpful, Mycroft."

"Careful, Brother Dear. Mummy always disliked our quarrling."

"She isn't here now!"

"The principle still applies."

Sherlock huffed.

Greg cut in. "Boys, don't start a fight. We have better things to do."

"Yeah, like figuring out what happened to Al." John agreed.

Sherlock looked at John. "Bit not good?"

"Yeah."

**A/N: Timeline - this is before The Great Game. I thought I should tell you because soon the Game will Begin!**


	6. Smiles?

**A/N: School's Out! Maybe more frequent updates but I'm not promising. Also, I'm not so depressed/ stressed anymore and this story might become happier for no reason whatsoever. Thought I might warn ya.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock nor do I make money for posting this.**

A.C.B.

A nurse came out of the room and approached the four males. In the waiting room. Of a hospital. Not where they want to be at the present time. Hospitals caused too much worry.

"She is expected to make a full recovery." The breath whooshed out of all the men. "The emotional damage is something else entirely. Alexandra's going to wake within the hour and I would suggust _someone _be in there, so not to cause unnecessary stress." The kind nurse turned and walked toward the door leading to the rooms, the four men quietly filed out behind her.

She lead them to Al's room and opened the door.

Sherlock strode in, took one look at Al, (looking very small swathed in white), and felt guilty.

Mycroft followed Sherlock in and took a deep breath before looking at the small girl who had come to be like a daughter to him.

Greg came in and took Mycroft's hand before he broke down.

John was slightly prepared but went to stand behind Sherlock, just in case.

They didn't wait long before Al showed the signs of waking.

She opened her eyes.

Al looked at the plain room, then glanced over at the only other people in her room. The ones that had become father figures to her. (Yes, all of them. Even Sherlock.)

And burst into tears.

A.C.B.

None of the grown men in the room have no idea what to do. Gathering his courage, Greg stepped forward and took Al's hand. She squeezed it and used it to pull him to her in a hug. Greg relaxed and hugged the quietly sobbing Al back.

John moved to stand on Al's other side and rubbed circles into her back. Sherlock and Mycroft walked over to stand awkwardly at the foot of the bed.

Mycroft's phone pinged in the eerily quiet room. He sighed and went outside to take the call.

Greg looked up at his boyfriend's stiff gate. Al looked up at him, smiled and pushed him away so he could follow him out of the room.

Al turned to John and noticed that he was finding really hard not to show his emotions. Al smiled at him and shooed him out of the room.

She beckoned Sherlock forward. Sherlock came to her side without much thought. She took his hand an squeezed it. "You really should tell him, ya know." Sherlock looked at Al, startled.

"Why? He'll only laugh."

"He surprises you everyday. Why should this be any different?"

He shrugged and looked at his feet sheepishly. "I'm not used to emotions."

Al laughed. Sherlock's head shot up and stared at her. "Who is?" She countered.

He didn't have an answer.

She laughed harder and pulled him into a big hug. "He does need to know. Go to him. John needs you more now than I do." Sherlock left.

Al sighed and smiled. "What am I going to do with my boys?"

A.C.B.

John had wandered the halls of the hospital for a little while. Thinking about the horrors of Afgahnistan. Al had reminded him of so many girls his squad had found it wasn't healthy. He sank to the floor when the memories became too much.

Sherlock found him that way. He came and slid onto the floor next to John.

"How's Al?"

"Fine. Perfectly fine. Excellent actually."

"Excellent? She was just _raped_! Sherlock, that is not perfectly fine."

"I got her to laugh."

John was dumbfounded. "She _laughed_? That does not compute, Sherlock."

"Well, believe me or not, but she did."

"Okay." John looked around. He unconsciously took Sherlock's hand. Sherlock started but didn't say anything. They sat there for a few minutes. A nurse came walking towards them.

"Sirs? Al has fallen asleep. And we need to to a rape examination. Mr. Holmes has told us to do it now, but you are her official guardians. We need your permission."

"Go ahead." Sherlock spoke for the both of them. "She needs it and won't agree while awake."

The nurse nodded and walked away to inform the doctor.

John and Sherlock stood up, ready to wait out the storm.

A.C.B.

**A/N: I know Al is acting a little strangely. You will find out why soon. But if you've been paying attention you already know.**

**Review PLEASE! I'm begging you!**

**Oh, BTW, I switched my pen name to Alohilani Hudson. My inner Al needed a name.**


	7. Feelings

**A/N: Not many people have reviewed. Sigh. I want to know your thoughts people! C'mon, 50 people looked at this story **_**yesterday**_** and no one reviewed. *pouty face* Just kidding! I am posting this for me own entertainment.**

**Well, anyway, this chapter is focused on our beloved detective. Kind of. He is confused at the present time. This is where I insert all those lovely descriptions.**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN THIS FASCINATING DETECTIVE.**

**Thanks to Lysdi and Telula13 who have reviewed.**

**On with the show!**

A.C.B.

_Alexandra C. Bowyer._

_15 years of age._

_Lived in the U.S._

_Likes baseball._

_Wears hat constantly._

_Hazel eyes._

_Dark hair._

_Dyed. (Obvious now that you're not wearing a hat. You really should re-dye that.)_

_Trained in martial arts._

_Cheap but fashionable clothes._

_Doesn't wear make-up._

_But who are you?_

Sherlock's thoughts were disrupted when John walked back in the room with some horrible hospital coffee. Greg and Mycroft left earlier to go to work.

"Confused as well, Sherlock?"

"Confused? I'm never confus-. What do you mean by 'as well'?"

John shifted uncomfortably. "I - I don't know." He looked at his feet. "Al isn't a very open person. Really all I know is what Mycroft told me."

Sherlock looked at him. "Why don't you know more? Your better at those _feeling_ things aren't you?"

"Well, yes. But I don't think that Al shows her true emotions. What rape victim wakes up in an unfamiliar place, cries, and forces everyone to leave but one, then laughs? It doesn't make sense."

"That John is what a person does when their emotions have only ever caused them pain."

"Is that what happened to you?"

Sherlock looked at John indecorously. "I am not going to dignify that with an answer. Anyway, Al is hiding something. Something really big, something she doesn't want anyone to know."

"Doing a good job too." John smirked at Sherlock. "What with all you and your brother's resources, you should be able to find something."

Both of them were so enraptured in their conversation that they didn't notice Al had woken up and was watching them with interest. She kept it that way.

"Yes our resources are impressive but if a person is basically off the grid for most of their lives there isn't much information.

Laughing silently, Al nodded.

"What about that name she shouted? Jake, was it?" Sherlock nodded. "What about him? Could someone contact him an-."

"You'd need a psychic for that."

John and Sherlock (to her delight) jumped and turned to her. "Jake's dead. Has been for over a year now. He died in a car accident with Matthew. My boyfriend and my little brother."

John felt guilty now. "I'm -."

Al angrily interrupted him. "Don't you dare apologize to me, John Watson!"

John looked abashed. "But-."

"No. Do you want my apologies for your military service? I could you know. You were there helping the troops from my country eliminate the threat to the people. You were a medic you friends died in front of you. Same happened to me. We are in the same boat, John. I don't need your pity. Save it for a person who actually wants it." Al spat vehemently.

They stared. That was the most that they have ever heard out of Al in one go.

_She is also very proud._

John looked at his feet again. Sherlock was still looking at Al, trying to deduct her. By the way, his eye was twitching, he wasn't having very much luck.

Al looked at the two of them. She smiled again, "When do I get out of here?"

A.C.B.

After the somewhat revealing talk with Al, John went to the nurses' station and got her discharge papers.

Al was very excited to get back to the flat. As soon as the cab pulled up to the curb, Al jumped out and laughed. John chuckled and paid the cabby. Sherlock grabbed the small overnight bag and opened the door. Al gets inside and promptly crashes in Sherlock's chair. John chuckles again and asks Sherlock if he wants some decent tea. Sherlock sat down on the couch seeing as his chair was being pilfered by Al.

"Of course, John." John bustles about boiling enough water in case Al wakes up soon.

The girl in question wasn't really asleep. "Can I have some chai, John?"

John smiled again, made her the wondrous chai, and handed it to her. "Mama always said that chai had special healing powers. Just one of those things mothers tell their kids. I always believed her, no matter how old I got."

Even Sherlock had a small smile on his face at this point. Who wouldn't?

Al got up off the chair and plopped down on the couch next to Sherlock, and pulled John down to sit next to her after he had handed Sherlock his tea. They sat like that on the cramped couch for a time until almost all the tea had gone.

Al turned to face John and hugged him, burrowing her face in his jumper. "Thanks, I don't think I could've stayed there for much longer without going stir-crazy."

John smiled and hugged the girl back. Sherlock sat awkwardly on Al's other side, no knowing what to do.

John rolled his eyes and jerked his head towards Al. Sherlock got the hint and cautiously put his arms around Al and John.

Al smirked, going unnoticed by the males hugging her.

They broke apart suddenly when the doorbell rang. John got up to answer it while Al leaned back against Sherlock, the day's excitement getting the best of her.

John came back upstairs holding a package. "Al, you have a package."

"Really? From who?"

"The guy wouldn't give me a name but he looked familiar."

"Hm. Toss it here." John did. Al examined the unassuming package. Sherlock handed her a knife. She swiftly cut open the tape.

And peeked in the box.

And let out a squeal of joy.

Al pulled out a stuffed elephant. A lavender one. With a note taped to its ear.

"What's the note say?"

"Umm. 'Get well soon. The Scotland Yard. P.S. Sally picked it out.'"

Al laughed, "It's perfect!"

John sent a text to Greg: _Hey, Al loves the elephant. Thanks to everyone. -JW_

"I'm dubbing you Kolakolli."

A.C.B.

**A/N: Well, that was fun. This chapter had a mind of its own. This was not how I planned this scene to go. Sorry if it sounded rushed or something.**

**Live Life & Have Fun!**

**Al**


	8. Locations

**A/N: Hey three updates - three days! This probably won't happen again but I'll hope anyway. People, review! I need motivation! Thoughts are like candy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own.**

A.C.B.

After his tea, John had gone upstairs to sleep.

When he came back down the next morning, Al had curled up next to Sherlock (hugging Kolakolli) and had fallen asleep.

Even more surprising - Sherlock had fallen asleep with her curled up right next to him. _Wow._

John smiled at the somewhat family-ish moment. And went to the kitchen to make tea. The bustling about woke up Al.

Al looks over at John, seeing that she is looking at her, she grins evilly. "You should tell him you know."

He was staring after her retreating figure when Sherlock woke to the screeching of the kettle.

"Making tea?"

"Want some?"

"*Grunt*"

"'Kay then."

That was when Sherlock's phone rang. - _Text from: Lestrade. Need Al's statement will be heading over shortly._

_Text from: Sherlock Holmes. Don't bother. She won't tell you anything. SH_

_Text from: Lestrade. Coming over anyway._

"Lestrade is going to be here soon."

John poked his head out of the kitchen. "Case?"

"Al."

"Ah. Al! Greg's going to be here soon! Be decent!

The shout came back, "Kay!"

In a few minutes she came running down the stairs. Dressed in a nice red top and a jean material hat with flowers on it. Al came into the living room and saw the tea John and Sherlock were currently holding. "Chai?"

"Counter."

That was when Greg decided to walk into the flat. "Hey Al. You seem chipper today."

She smiled at him. "Did Sally really pick out Kolakolli?"

"The elephant?" She nodded. "Yes. Strange name there."

"Yes, well, I'm a strange girl." Greg shook his head.

"Well, Al, my coming here wasn't entirely personal…"

"Need my statement, huh."

"Yeah." Greg looked off somewhere in the middle distance.

Al shrugged. "It's your job I don't blame you. Besides, wouldn't you like something a little more interesting?"

"More interesting?" All eyes were on Al.

She nodded. "I can tell you where it happened."

The males in the flat looked at her, very surprised one might say.

"Tut. I expected more out of you, Greg."

A.C.B.

**A/N: Hey someone message me please. My ideas are running sluggishly. Need inspiration.**


	9. Lock

**A/N: Hehe. Sorry this is kinda late. Life has been interceding. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the fantabulous detective known as Sherlock Holmes.**

A.C.B.

After Al's revelation, it took less than an hour to be in a squad car racing to the address Al had given them.

Even Sherlock and John had consented to ride with the police instead of a taxi. Mainly to watch Al.

The cruiser was filled with uncomfortable silence.

In the front seat next to Greg, Al was preparing herself for the trauma and / or fighting that would occur once they got there. What she didn't know was that Sherlock was watching her with avid interest. He stared as she tapped out a pattern on her leg, shuddered, and held herself a bit differently when the tapping was done.

He watched as she prepared her kit on her thigh. Testing the poison needles, checking her blades sharpness, and looking through her lock picking kit.

Sherlock watched. He tried to deduce her (to no avail) and what Al's actions meant to the chase ahead.

John was staring out the window. Mentally hoping that the night would turn out okay with no injuries.

Greg was just short of having a (**A/N: I really don't have a word for this.**) emotional display. That was particularly bad seeing as he is the one driving. Al interrupted his thoughts by putting a hand on his leg. Greg glanced at her, she grinned at him. He shivered. That one grin was the coldest and most predatory he had ever seen (counting all the creepy criminals he's caught over his years at the Yard).

He didn't have much time to reflect on it as they arrived at the address.

Al hopped out of the cruiser into the chaos waiting for her. The shuffling of feet, the shouting of voices, the music of sirens, the creaking of the old warehouse they were about to enter. She grinned and let out a whoop. The hunt was on!

Every officer in Al's vicinity stopped at the whoop and stared at the 15 year old. A girl the Yard has only known as traumatized (rightfully so) and quiet. Nothing like the small warrior / predator, they were witnessing now.

A sergeant ran up to Lestrade, "Sir! We can't get the doors open." And what impressive doors they were. Hulking things, pure steel, and very, very heavy.

Al laughed at them all. "Not very hard you see." She had the attention of the entire police force. Al walked to the building, the Yarders followed her. "All it takes is a hidden panel and some magic." Now she had them all confused. Greg… Sally… _Sherlock…_ That last one pleased Al the most. She can still surprise Sherlock Holmes.

She efficiently found the hidden control panel for the doors. The force gaped at her. Sherlock swooped in at this point wanting to pick the lock (Not in any way jealous of the girl. Nope. Not him. He's a sociopath for crying aloud.) to stoop down and find the stupid lock, "A combination lock! Who uses those anymore?"

"A combo, ay? Not your lucky day, mate." Greg said.

"Shut it!"

"Oh, but I know this lock. "Al pushed Sherlock and Greg to the side and stared lovingly at the lock.

John was fairly confused at this point. _Who stared at a lock lovingly? Let alone one that indirectly assisted your rape? _Al just didn't make sense sometimes.

Al crouched down to coo at the lock. "Now, you're a big BA lock holding everyone out. Confusing people is what you do the best. Congratulations, you've bested the world's only Consulting Detective. But you, silly lock, are not going to fool me."

The police force was openly gawking at Al now. _The girl is mad! Holmes rubbed off on her quickly! Freak did this, I know he did. _A million other thought flew through the heads of the oblivious world.

They didn't understand Al had her own way of dealing with emotions, well, life.

Sherlock, Greg, and John watched, entranced as Al pulled her necklace* off her neck and grinned at it. Hanging on the chain was a few keys, a dog tag, and a silver charm. "Don't think for a second that you could fool me." Al pulled one of the smallest keys foreward and let the rest slid to the bottom of the chain. "No, you couldn't fool me. Your combination is fake. So how do I get you open…? Ah, yes. The hidden key slot on the back. Clever, but not clever enough."

Everyone started. _Fake? Hidden key slot? WHAT?_

_Al lifted the lock and slid the key into the back. The silly thing clicked open in an instant._

_Al stood up as the creaky doors opened._

"_Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"_


End file.
